hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Welcome to the Snave (snake cave)

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Intro Log: Welcome to the Snave (snake cave)

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for March
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: March 10th-15th
Warnings: Snakes! Snakes! It's a snake!

Good morning, new arrivals! Or, well, it's probably morning. The sun is up, anyway. Okay - not the sun, but that ball of light at the top of the cave that functions as the sun, anyway. Whatever. The point is you've woken to find yourself on the floor of Hadriel's colosseum. You may be wondering where you are and what you're doing here, but what you should be wondering is how fast you need to run to get away from a three-headed snake.

You're not the only one who just woke up. Also to be found in the arena, angry and confused, are Runespoors - large three-headed snakes. Only one of the heads is venomous, but all of them are perfectly willing to take a bite out of you if you get too close - or if you annoy it. If you're lucky, an attacking Runespoor may distract itself via infighting between the three heads, giving you time to run. If not, well, let's just hope you can fight off all three heads at once!

But that's not the only thing you might find. Also scattered around the colosseum floor are what look like tasty snacks. Popsicles, cheese, even toast! Unfortunately, if you get hungry and take a bite, you will quickly discover that each and every one of these is actually soap. So that's great. Maybe the Door thinks everyone needs to shower more? You can also find a few that actually look like soap, and if you're really lucky, you might stumble across the rare and coveted 'pile of baby hands' soap.

With luck, you didn't get eaten by a snake or accidentally eat a piece of soap. Once you find your way out of the colosseum there's plenty of other distractions. Feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, a new monster, a project to help with, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers March 10th-15th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters arrive with phones that have network communication and the newbie guide installed.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

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Much the same place as you. Next question.

[It sounds curt, but he eventually smiles halfheartedly.]

That's just a joke. Funny, yes?

[No.]

I've been living on a spaceship for nearly a year. Though recently, the ship was destroyed and we came to be trapped on an alien planet instead. Or planets, but that is quite technical, I suppose.

I don't recommend space. The stars are nice, and some planets are alright. However...

[Again, he finds himself stroking his neck out of unchecked habit.]

...There are other places which should never even have come to exist.

[Uh. Wow. Yeah. That's a bit curt, comin' from him. Sure, Mettaton always had the capacity to be truly, unforgivingly nasty when the situation called for it, but he whips out a barbed tone preemptively, which strikes him as a bit...

Maybe "concerning" is the wrong word to use. He's tryin' to take a break from that whole "caring" thing. It's a work in progress, all right?]

Huh.

[Space, huh? Color him, very slightly, jealous. At least with everything else goin' on, he could've seen the sky. The stars.

All of it.]

Can't say it sounds familiar.

[His hand goes to his neck, and the lights in the skeleton's eyesockets swing up to track the motion, pinning down the way his metallic fingers drift over the cloth (tomatoes, detergent, garlic), before swiveling idly away. Keepin' his tone low and neutral.]

That where you score that little number?

[Mettaton's just...

Really uncomfortable trying to pretend he doesn't want to tell Sans off for leaving, but honestly? The tipping point had to be questioning the scarf. Because how dare he ask, Mettaton had tried asking him if he wanted it and for whatever fucking reason, it had led to the most uncomfortable and unpleasant conversation of his life.

They'd both been upset in their own ways...

And Sans hadn't even let Mettaton commiserate. Was Mettaton ever good enough for Papyrus? That's something he often wonders, and for a while, he had believed that Sans had the confidence in him. Maybe...maybe his shaders were on, because that was the old him. The old him wouldn't see how awful he actually was.

And as he speaks, he is reminded, once again, that yeah he is an awful person.]

He was with me on the ship for a while. And then he was gone. This is all I have left of him.

[That's it. He offers nothing else. No question as to whether Sans wants it, because Papyrus was his brother and he deserved to have it. No inquiry as to whether Papyrus is here, because his hope was so diminished that he felt he already knew that answer.

And no sympathy...because the last time he'd tried, it had been thrown in his face.]

[Uh-huh.

Yeah. Figures. Papyruses deserve the best outta any word, don't they? They deserve to be home and happy, seeing the sun, driving an appropriately flashy red vehicle with the wind streaming through their lack of hair. They don't have any time for awful places like this, or places in space that apparently ain't that great anyway.

Better off somewhere else. He don't deserve Papyrus. He never did.

He could push the envelope, conceivably. He could probably whip up a proper case for who has whatever right to own the damn thing. But it don't matter much, in the end. He ain't sentimental.

Not anymore.

He's learned what it means to hold onto things, and holding onto things only ever got 'em turned against him. So, fine. That can be Mettaton's cross to bear, given that he's so attached to it.]

Sorry to hear that, pal.

[His rumble is low enough that it ain't exactly clear whether the condolence is sincere or not. Mettaton can put it together on his own time. Don't much matter.]

He was here too, for a little bit.

[Was, even if the word don't get any kinda additional amount of stress. But the past tense should be a firm enough indicator of what went down.]

[Sans has a way of saying things to get under Mettaton's metaphorical skin, and this time is no exception. He doesn't fight for the scarf, and the bot might have respected him more if he had. He doesn't ask anything about how Mettaton had come to possess it, which honestly? That was fine at least.

It would have been hard to talk about.

But to not even ask why Mettaton found it so important, feign sympathy believably, or even have the heart to wait until Mettaton wanted to ask whether Papyrus was here? Maybe he wanted to tell himself there would be a chance later, and that the longer he didn't see Papyrus--if he was here--the fonder he'd be of the tall skeleton if by sheer happenstance, he'd ended up in this place.

But no.

We have to keep things straight now, don't we?]

Of course he was. And of course he isn't anymore.

[Mettaton's hands clench into fists at his sides, so tight that the joints of each finger strain against the pressure.]

What happens to those who leave here? Do they die, or do they go back to where they came from?

[There's an icy gleam in Mettaton's eyes as he continues.]

Did he even have anything to go back home to anyway?

[Eye for an eye, Sans. Now Mettaton's feeling things out, because whereas Sans might not be entirely aware, Mettaton knew quite a bit about the workings of things back home. He didn't want to know, and if he could, he would forget and be a happier monster for it. But he can't. It's with him forever.]

[Easy, buddy. If it were anyone else, someone might say your anger's a tad misdirected. But that'd be ridiculous, right? No reason for a thing like that, nah.

No reason at all.

The temptation to up and slide outta this conversation is overwhelming, just for a moment. Clip through space and end up on the couch. Bye, see ya, thanks for catchin' up, was a real great time for everybody, but he's done.

Yeah. The temptation's there, no kidding. But he's too tired to bother just now. His shoulders lift, lightly, before sloping down again. The weight of a world's worth of dust rolling off his shoulders, showering onto the ground. Metaphorically. Paints a real pretty picture, long as you don't think too hard on where all that dust came from.

He slits open an eyesocket and locks it on the robot unblinkingly, grinning easily.]

You kiddin' me? He's drivin' a nice car under the sun, if he gets his way.

[That was the only silver lining, with all of it. At least he went back to a world that existed. A nice end for everybody, though hell if he knows how one gets there. Ain't like anyone else has seen it.

Though, hell, maybe Undyne has. He ain't asked her.

He finds himself not askin' a whole lotta questions these days.]

[...

Surprisingly, Mettaton's expression goes entirely slack. He's finding it difficult to be mad with that answer. Whatever reason Sans might have to give it to him, it was still an answer he wanted to hear, because it reminded him of home, and that Papyrus would be fine there.

Not his Papyrus.

But still okay.

He laughs softly, an uncomfortable sound. But he still sounds relieved when he addresses Sans again.]

I would love that for him. He deserves that. He deserves only the best.

[Which, of course, means not Mettaton. This shadow of a robot wasn't worth being enamored to, after all, and he was fairly certain that nothing he did would ever make Papyrus love him again.

That's fine. It's okay.

Just as long as he knows there's one Papyrus that'll be okay.]

Sans?

I am sorry for my behavior. It's not very fair is it, to be mad at someone without even telling them why?

['S the only good thing to come of it. He goes somewhere nice, for once. He ends up on the Surface, happy and content, with a whole mess of people who love him.

Better than down here, right? And even if there's that awful, selfish little piece of him that's grappling for a fraction of what he had, that wants it all back, 'cause that'd be better, somehow - it's probably for the best that he's used to not gettin' what he wants, yeah?

Papyrus ain't better off down here. He should be with the people who deserve him.

He don't expect that to be the thing that defuses the potentially escalating situation. But defuse it does, and Mettaton's entire disposition softens right outta nowhere.

Heh. All right. Maybe not outta nowhere.

And then there's the unexpected bit. Even more so than every other loop he's thrown him thus far.

He apologizes.

Sans don't answer that. Not right away. He keeps his even look and his guileless grin, until finally he droops his socket shut again, rolling his shoulders in a faint, tired shrug.]

Hey, fuhgeddaboutit. Sounds like you been through a lot.

[Mettaton just nods. He's not going to elaborate on it at all, because quite honestly? Fuck that. The less he has to explain the better.

That might not be the best policy, all things considered. Especially when he does something as flagrantly uncharacteristic as apologizing for something he did that may have hurt someone else's feelings. Objectively, it was the right thing to do! Sans didn't deserve this if he couldn't even tell why Mettaton was mad.

It wasn't the Sans he knew.

Somehow, that did have a mild effect on his good mood...but he stifles it for the most part.]

I can't say I'm happy to be here. But I'm not as upset as I should be. Though I feel terribly that I cannot uphold my promises to Asriel while I'm stuck somewhere else.

Promises, huh?

[To Asriel, no less. And he really shouldn't be askin', considering everything, but that's really the kid that he knows the least, ain't he? There's a trio of 'em, but Asriel's awful cagey; more so than Frisk, who simply seems to think that he don't wanna hear anything that ain't a joke or a smile.

But that bit's his fault. He knows it.

One supraorbital ridge lifts in mild intrigue.]

You close with the kid or somethin'?

[Is he close with Asriel? Probably not if there was one here. That wasn't the Asriel he knew, he was pretty certain. That's just how it went.

Unbidden, a memory surfaces of a tall boss monster sparing Mettaton a quicker death by skewering an alien on his sword. Then another, where Mettaton screams and tugs against chains, watching a young boss monster be muzzled and dragged away.

He looks intensely uncomfortable. Up rises the hand again, and he can't help but look just as cornered as he feels.]

Yes, well. Where I'm from, we became friends. Over shared experiences.

[Like wanton murder, self-hatred, and being reduced to property. You know, normal stuff!]

No kidding.

[His hand goes to the back of his neck, a motion that maybe he don't realize it, but makes him look - besieged. Like he's set upon on all sides by some kinda invisible force.

Could be a correlation between that and the fact that that's just where the scarf rests, but that ain't a given. Correlation don't equal causation, and all that. Either way, he don't make it real obvious that he's keepin' any more of an eyesocket on him than he was prior.]

He's been down here for a few months now. Pretty sure he never lived on any spaceships, though.

No, I...imagine not.

[Not his Asriel. There's nothing familiar for him here, then? So it goes, he supposes.]

It's alright, I wouldn't want to impose myself upon him for a friendship that he doesn't want.

[What a very Mettaton thing to say!

Wait...]

Who else is here from the Underground anyway? So far, we haven't really accounted for that many, have we?

[...yeah, sure, champ. What a very characteristic thing for the glamorous, endlessly egotistical television star of the Underground to say.

...

What the hell kinda crap did he go through in space, anyway?

Seemingly unperturbed, he rattles 'em off on his phalanges.]

Lemme see here...uh, we got Alph, livin' with me and Undyne. This human who I think used to be a ghost - Napstablook, I think. King's down here too, along with his - uh, all of his kids.

["All" of them. Not sure if Frisk rightly counts with all that, but he don't know how else to call 'em.]

Alphys is here?!

[Ah, now there's some of that energy. Mettaton can't really help it; he missed her dearly before she showed up on the Moira, and even moreso when she vanished. Was it so wrong to miss his best friend?

Blooky, of course, is another matter. He wants to ask, but he's not sure whether to bring it up. So...he doesn't.]

The children and the king too? Mm...it's been a very long time since I've seen Asgore or Undyne, I must admit.

[He shakes his head. This is crazy. This is unfair.]

None of you really deserve to be in a place like this. Maybe it's just my very minute experience prior to this point, but...this doesn't seem like a place one would want to live.

[Giant three headed snakes, really?]

'Course. She's missed ya.

[One socket drops shut for a second in mild amusement, mingled with a - a somethin' he don't let dwell for very long at all. Trepidation, maybe. 'Cause she mentioned, the first day she showed, and he had to ask to make sure she came from a better place than he did. And it turns out she did.

But not by a whole lot.

At least that gets a reaction. She's missed him. She watched him die.]

Eh. It ain't so bad. We don't get stars or skies, but...

[He trails off with a loose shrug of his shoulders, artless and unconcerned. He'll let Mettaton fill in the blanks if he likes.]

[And fill them he does. Mettaton's hardly the worst at reading people, he's actually pretty good. But when it comes to Sans, he's an amateur, isn't he?

So...he can't quite decipher Sans' feelings.

That's probably what the skeleton preferred anyway.]

I have...really missed her too. You know how the saying goes; you don't know what you've lost 'til it's gone!

It's very true.

[He laughs mirthlessly. None of his laughs are anything other than cynical anymore, are they?]

Lots of things gone, many of them sorely missed. Almost none of them coming back. At least I can be happy to have Alphys and Bl...Napstablook too.

You know 'em?

[Ain't like Napstablook is what you'd call the talkative sort. Honestly, they do so much better when they aren't talking. Undyne's had to interrupt more than a few sessions of "lying on the floor and feeling like garbage after a good meal" - turns out he and Alphys are pros at that.

Hopefully made 'em feel a little more at home.]

They're still havin' trouble. Ain't real sure how a human body's supposed to work. Who'da thunk the Door could change things up like that, right?

[What a wild wacky happenstance.

But, y'know. Thaaaaaat's Hadriel.]

Yes, well! They, ah. They called into my show during my little stand-off with Frisk, you know? So it's only right to know a fan's name!

[Boy howdy he couldn't be lying any harder if he tried. How does he stand himself?

Simple answer: he can't stand himself! Hahahahaha...ha...

His concern becomes much less about Napstablook being a fan, and crosses far past the line of familiarity as he continues though.]

Oh...they were never meant for that! I cannot imagine they're eating right, or even sleeping well, it took me a while to get used to it when that happened to me on the Mini Colony. Circadian rhythms are honestly the most awful thing I have ever had the displeasure of acclimating to!

[Well.

At least he can still natter on endlessly about his experiences like he's the center of the universe, right?!]

[Uh-huh. He never saw any sorta stand-off with the human, unless you count that all-too-brief light-show. Didn't even see it himself proper. Heard about it when Alphys called.

Least they had that common ground, huh?

Either way, he ain't entirely sure he buys the act Mettaton's selling. It's awful frantic, but...honestly, who's he to press buttons, huh? Ain't he pressed enough for several lifetimes?

Probably.

So. Play the role. Run with the subject shift.]

Turns out you're gonna have to adjust to 'em all over again. Our day-and-night cycles ain't what you'd call normal, it turns out.

That would bother me if I actually slept. But I do not.

[He might have disliked sleep for the short time he needed to endure it, but...sometimes, he wishes he could actually close his eyes and forget everything that has happened for a few hours.

Haha, right. That'll happen.

Not.]

Maybe I can help them adjust though. It would be the right thing to do.

[That'd be a fair point, yeah. Bein' all mechanical and the like would render that kinda thing pretty useless overall. He hikes his shoulders in a brief shrug before they drop back down to their typical relaxed slump.

It'd be the right thing to do, huh?

Come to care about the kids a lot, ain't he? And he knew their name, meaning...he probably knew 'em back home. Well enough to know their name. That, or there was a version of 'em running 'round on that spaceship of his.]

The noble thing to do, huh?

['Cause "noble" sounds like a grandiose sorta word. The kinda concept a star might trot out, maybe.

Or maybe that's him trying to force a thing that ain't there. Anymore.]

[Sans is free to make whatever assumptions he likes. Knowing Mettaton's luck, the skeleton would figure it out eventually. Or Mettaton would probably make it incredibly obvious.

Who knew. He certainly didn't...not yet anyway.]

Noble. That does sound like something I'd say, hmm?

[He smiles flatly.]

Yes, let us go with that. It would be noble to help a poor ghost stuck in a body he never wanted in the first place.

[Sighing, he can't help but offer a little shrug himself.]

Well, I think I've thoroughly monopolized your time, for much longer than I intended. So, ah. Perhaps if you don't mind answering one more question for me...how is it getting a place to live around here? Am I to be paying some type of rent out of the approximate nothing I have been left with?

[He's not counting what's in his PacDisc. Not until he has to count what's in his PacDisc.]

They never did ask for it, no.

[But it's all plastic. It's all false pretense thrown up, a sparkling veneer that ain't even draped across whatever might be beneath that surface with the same kinda alacrity he recalls from the guy he knew.

Did his damnedest to bury the shallow in more shallow, emphasizing superficiality, underscoring those trademark little traits of his. Drama. Flair. Exaggeration.

Familiar story.

He lets the subject get pulled from one place to the next, unresisting. No real point in diggin' in his heels, huh?]

No real economy to speak of down here. The gods set up housing for all of us. More or less just gotta pick what ain't already taken.

[Drama. Flair. Exaggeration.

What are those? Haha...]

Gods, hm? I see. Well I suppose the first thing to do is acquaint myself with the people I do know first, then the area. It isn't as if I need a place to sleep. Just a place to charge.

[Effectively, he can straight up recharge in a ~~Starbucks~~ generic coffee shop for hipsters and nerds.]

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